Beginnings
by RamiaQuizzlinger
Summary: Arcani did not know what was in store for him, only that he was supposed to find his destiny. How did this tiny tyke grow up to be the reigning supervillain of Metro City?
1. Not that different

I've been working on this story for a while. Originally, I was just going to write what happened after the movie, but this idea smacked me in the face. I discovered that I really want to write all about Megamind's life from beginning to end. What can I say, I'm crazy about this movie.

As with all my other stories, I can't guarantee that I'll update regularly. All I can say is that I'll do my best to write every day.

Thank you, DreamWorks, for making this amazing movie! (If you want to use any of my ideas for a movie or series or something, please do!)

* * *

Two infants stared at each other through the glass viewports of their respective spaceships. They were incredibly different.

One was a Glaupunk, sitting back in his seat. He was tall and wide, with pinkish skin, blue eyes, and brown hair. He possessed the ability to fly, had powerful senses, and invulnerability. The child did not know why he had these powers, or what he could use them for, or even that he was special. He did not understand all that much yet. He was only three weeks old. He saw another kid that looked weird and stuck his tongue out.

The other child had blue skin, green eyes, no hair on his large head, and the thin body typical of a Tejjhan. He knew a lot of things, though he was even younger than his counterpart. He understood vaguely some of the characteristics of the other child that made him a Glaupunk. He knew his mom and dad wanted him to go away so he could find a destiny of some kind. He knew he had a minion that swam. This child could not fly, could be injured fairly easily, and had duller senses. Unlike the first, however, he could understand speech and had already begun to babble himself. He pressed his face up against the glass, eyes wide with curiosity.

Yes, the two children were very different. One rich, one poor; one smart, one strong; one white, one blue. There were two things, however, that they shared.

The first was that they were fleeing dying planets being destroyed by the same black hole. Their families, along with many others, had attempted to send their sons to safety. Unlike many others, they succeeded.

The second was that both children were being sent to the same planet. Their parents had not planned it that way, there was no cosmic destiny at work. It was simply Lady Luck tossing two sets of dice and rolling the same number. Earth was a healthy planet, similar enough to Tejja and Orta. Humans were, in general, a loving species, so would likely take care of a castaway child. There were many other planets that fit those simple criteria, but Sudhir and Arcani's parents happened to choose the same one.

The boys lost sight of each other in the burning atmosphere of their new planet. Only Arcani knew where both of them had ended up. Sudhir stayed rich, Arcani stayed poor. Sudhir was pampered and given free reign to do as he desired, Arcani taught more intensively and strictly. Neither child would ever know that their original parents would have raised them with much the same methods as their adoptive parents. Some things were truly universal.

A third child, thought of as a pet due to his aquatic nature, accompanied Arcani. Just like the others, he was individual in his own way. He wore no clothing other than a clear glass ball to contain his water. He was green, blue, and black, with brown eyes. In most visible ways, Valeriu was the strangest of the aliens to land that day. However, Vali would grow both physically and mentally at the same rate as human children. In this, he had an advantage over the other two.

Vali, fairly typically of an infant, understood very few things. Actually, only one. What he knew was not that he was loved or the face of a parent, unlike the children of most species. Vali was a Shallus. Like every Shallus, the very first thing he knew was that he was bound to his Tejjhan, Arcani. That bond could not be broken except by death. It was loyalty, love, friendship, servitude, parenthood. It was a requirement that he take care of the blue child that shared his pod to the best of his ability. This bond, already powerful, had been artificially strengthened by Valeriu and Arcani's parents so that both might survive. Therefore, Vali burned with determination.

He had a job to do, and by Lar, he would do it.

* * *

Minion gets overlooked a lot, especially in the stories about Megamind's childhood. I wanted to give him the ending focus for once :)

As far as names are concerned, Arcani means "destined for greatness" (as pointed out by nineteennintytwo), Sudhir means "very wise and considerate," and Valeriu means "to be strong." Remember, names are chosen by parents for what they want their kids to be, not necessarily what they are...

Arcani=Megamind, Valeriu/Vali=Minion, and Sudhir=Metro Man. I totally invented the names for the planets and races except for 'Glaupunk.'

The second chapter is almost finished, so I should have it up relatively soon. Relatively. It is also significantly longer, because really, how much can you write about three kids that can't speak yet flying around in spacepods? The next chapter is about the Warden receiving his tiny Christmas present by interstellar mail. How will he react?

Please review! Constructive criticism is great, as well as shameless flattery! I still can't decide which one I like more, lol :P


	2. Coming in with a BANG

So, second chapter!

Thanks for all the encouragement, it really does make a difference. It makes me determined to get the next one up soon, too.

Also, thank you Dani Kin for allowing me to use her name for the warden! If you haven't read her story "Fathers and Sons," you really should. It's a crazy rollercoaster of tearjerkiness, cuteness, and yelling at Megamind for being so awful. You definitely need tissues for the last chapter, I thought I wouldn't and bawled my eyes out.

* * *

James Woodridge, Warden of Metro City's Prison for the Criminally Gifted, was having a bad day. He pointedly ignored the source of his discomfort, a dowdy middle-aged female firecracker in a blue polyester suit. He hoped that thing was itching unbearably.

Ms. Warbeck, the new mayor, had something to say about everything in the prison.

She started with the name, insisting that calling the inmates "Criminally Gifted" would boost their ego.

Next, they caught Dajon playing cards with some of the prisoners, and Warbeck said his guards were lax.

The bars were too thin, the gym dangerous, the food expensive, the floors slick. She even criticized the prison uniforms, stating that "orange is too bold, stripes would be better to keep them in line." Worse, she copied every word he said and all her complaints on her plain brown clipboard.

Warbeck had already filled five pages and was working on a sixth.

As James heard yet another clipboard scritching from the... lady... on his right, he closed his eyes, struggling for patience.

_One, two, three,_ he counted mentally, pinching his nose between two fingers and breathing slowly._ Just don't say anything and she won't._ He'd stopped pointing out the safety measures his prison sported an hour ago.

He was near the end of his rope. If she said one more bad thing about the prison he was going to say something extremely straight, decorum be damned.

Warbeck began imperiously, "Now, **Mister** Woodridge, I would like an explanation as to why- what is that?"

_Thank goodness_, James thought. Any distraction was welcome with this woman. She made him glad he was still single.

Bang.

"What on Earth is that?" James echoed, turning toward the source of the noise. It sounded like a huge fist hitting the ground!

BANG. Whatever it was, it was coming closer!

"The prisoners are escaping! Help! GUNS!" Ms. Warbeck howled, quite losing her head and diving behind a doorway.

James raised an eyebrow incredulously. _How did anyone with this little sense get into such a high office?_ he wondered as another BANG shook the ground. Disregarding the pathetic excuse for a politician, the warden dashed toward the back of the prison, where the sound was coming from. That meant that whatever it was was headed for the yard.

James ran faster through the grey prison corridors. The prisoners were in there and if they were injured or escaped, it would be his responsibility.

**BANG.**

Pulling out his taser, James made a mad dash through the final corridor, almost slamming into the far wall as he took the last curve.

He realized immediately that the entire compliment of guards had come to investigate the disturbance. For some reason, the men in front had stopped dead in the doorway. The others crowded in too, forming a blue mass that entirely blocked James's path, forcing him to skid to a halt so he didn't smash into them.

James felt a flicker of annoyance. Well, this was unacceptable. Prison rules clearly stated that at least one guard had to be in each prison block at all times.

It was also an opportunity to force some discipline down his men's throats. Suppressing a smile, James put on his fiercest 'Warden Mask.' His brows contracted sternly and his mouth tightened into a flat line. He had heard some of the guards telling a new man that when he put on this mask, his scowl was almost comical. The key, apparently, was the 'almost.'

"Hey!" he snapped commandingly, making sure to project his voice instead of shout.

The men turned and quailed. Mark and Cody, always the most cowardly, scampered past him immediately, heading back to their posts. The others just looked uncomfortable.

Figuring that whatever was in the yard wasn't dangerous, James snapped, "Get back to work! The city doesn't pay you to loaf!"

To his surprise, nobody moved.

Unconsciously, James's frown deepened. His genuine anger made his underlings turn from discomfort to fear. Instead of running, however, they froze in place. "What is going on here?" the warden demanded, their disobedience almost startling him out of his fury.

Dajon shifted. James snapped his attention over to the guard, causing the very dark black man to pale to a more milk chocolate color. The guard muttered, "Sir, I think you need to see this."

The warden scowled, then barked, "Fine. The rest of you, go!"

They scurried away like agitated ants, quickly leaving Dajon and James alone.

Shaking his head, James turned to Dajon and raised an eyebrow as to say 'out with it.' The guard silently pointed outside.

James glanced into the yard then turned back to Dajon, ready to rip him a new one, then did a double take. He checked again, just to make sure he'd really seen what he thought he saw.

He had. Three of the inmates were passing around a baby boy, taking turns tossing him up in the air or bouncing him on their knees. The kid was chortling and obviously enjoying himself. Behind them, a large round machine lay open. It looked suspiciously like one of the escape pods from that new Star Wars movie.

The warden saw a huge fish in a round ball full of water peeking out from the pod. It had large teeth and dangly tentacle-things. He knew they were called something else and fish sometimes had them, but he couldn't think of the name right now.

James looked back at the boy in astonishment, shocked by what he had noticed right off the bat but refused to believe. It wasn't possible. This was **not** happening.

The kid was blue. Primary blue. Deep-ocean-on-a-sunny-day, paint-can, kids-coloring-the-sky blue.

The prisoners who weren't tossing the kid were watching with amusement, disgust, or joy. They apparently hadn't noticed that the kid was likely an alien, what with the escape pod and the weird fish and the **blue**. They just saw a child.

The guards around the yard perimeter were petrified, just like the ones inside had been. It seemed likely that if the warden hadn't arrived, nothing would have happened.

James walked toward the trio with the baby. He didn't know what he was going to do. One thing, however, was clear: something had to be done. An **alien**, for God's sake! Scientists would go crazy over the thing!

He found himself next to the closest one, Antony. The bald guy spun around, laughing, swinging the blue boy wildly above his head. On the second spin, he noticed the warden.

Without missing a beat, Antony turned his lopsided grin on James. Like the kid was a stray puppy, the hardened criminal asked charmingly, "Can we keep it?"

The warden scowled ferociously and opened his mouth to reply scathingly, but someone else beat him to it.

"Of course not! What a horrible idea! Throw the nasty thing in an orphanage or a laboratory or something. It certainly doesn't belong here!"

James, the guards, and the prisoners all turned to Ms. Warbeck slowly. While the sentiment that an infant did not belong in a prison was shared by James and many of his men, calling the kid "nasty" was going a bit too far.

James looked at Antony, Carlos, and Chavez. Antony was still holding the boy, absently holding him close. The warden then looked at the little alien. It had green eyes amid that blue face, giant green eyes that captured his attention. The kid stared at James. It didn't know what was going on and that frightened it, poor thing.

He thought of the boy going to an orphanage. Sometimes, kids stayed there for ages, never getting adopted. This alien was so weird-looking he might not have a shot. And was a lab really any better of a place to raise a child than a prison? Especially considering the attention that kid was already receiving here?

Add to that that he did not like Ms. Warbeck interfering with his jurisdiction, and the decision was easy.

"Of course," James stated glibly, watching Warbeck carefully. He was not disappointed. She puffed up like an angry frog, her hair frizzing and her suit stretching at the seams.

"You certainly shall be hearing from me, Mister Woodridge! The city will not stand such irresponsible decisions!" Turning from the warden, she marched to the door. Snappishly, she demanded, "Guards! Escort me out of this pigsty!"

The perimeter guards totally ignored her, either staring straight ahead or looking at the warden. At the blatant dis, Ms. Warbeck's brown eyes flashed furiously, her lips tightening until they were nothing more than a heavily painted line. James waved over a pair of men to get her out of his prison before things got out of hand.

Quivering with rage, Warbeck flounced into the building. The warden waited until she left the front gates before relaxing and considering what he had done.

He just allowed an innocent alien child to be raised by prison inmates.

* * *

Warden: Oops.

So, canon alert! I carefully took into consideration that Megamind was in the cell with those three inmates when he made the Tricycle of Doom. Thus, the warden probably did not raise Megamind from the beginning. Don't worry, he'll take over at some point :)

I'm already writing the third chapter. This is really consuming!

Once again, I shamelessly beg you to please review!


	3. Settling in and getting out

Third chapter FINALLY up. Wowza. Lots more background created for Megamind, a lot less productivity on the actual stories. You guys must be really mad at me.

I'll be glad when I have graduated from college, since I'll have a much more structured schedule then. Nowadays, I really have to plan ahead and take tons of weekends to study and do the dreaded projects. Grumph.

Anyway, on with the story.

* * *

Time passed, and the little alien kid became a normal part of prison life. It wasn't uncommon to see him sitting next to his pet fish and fiddling with things in the jail cell he shared with his 'uncles.'

Ms. Warbeck tried to rile up the townsfolk about getting the kid out of prison, but it never really got off the ground. For some reason, her fuming about an alien didn't go over too well. Surprisingly, she managed to keep her job as mayor, mostly because she was fairly effective at keeping a good balance between low taxes and clean parks and streets. The only problems that plagued her were relatively high crime rates and, of course, her interest in something as crazy as aliens.

True, some citizens had seen some sort of sphere hurl through the air at Metro City, and some had seen it go into the prison, but an alien? Really? It was so hard to believe that most people rejected it out of hand.

What made it ridiculously easy to dismiss was that Lord and Lady Scott, the wealthiest and most well-connected citizens of Metro, had also been accused of harboring an alien. There had been two sightings of an object hurtling toward their mansion: one by a couple of teenagers, the other by a single woman walking her dog. None of the witnesses agreed on what it was and the Scotts both denied that anything odd had occurred. There was an article in the Metro City Telegraph about it featuring pictures of the prominent entrepreneurs around the Christmas tree with their infant son, Wayne.

Still, the furor about the alien possibility rose to a pitch among a few people, including the head of the Biology Department at Metro University. To prevent a surprise investigation and the alien being taken away, the warden allowed the Mayor's people to search the prison once for 'the little blue freak' – after first making sure that the kid went on a field trip for a while so he'd be safe. Things died down a bit after that.

Now, two years after the kid landed, James hardly ever thought of little Blue, as his uncles had named him. Oh, he saw him occasionally, but he seemed to be getting along okay. The only real difference to the warden's life was whenever he had to requisition toys and hygiene products for him or food for the fish. The warden would have bought clothes, too, but the jumpsuit that came with the alien still seemed to fit him. Maybe it was made of some kind of spandex or something.

Today, James wasn't thinking about Blue at all. He was filling out paperwork. Sylvester Dover was about to go on parole and everything needed to be ready by tomorrow. As usual, whenever someone was about to leave the prison for good, the rest of the prisoners got rowdy and started making escape plans. The warden had already put down three attempts and he was sure there were more in store. For some reason, five always seemed to be the number before everything calmed down.

It had been a few days since the last try and James was anticipating another one.

The day dragged by. Motes of dust bounced in four sunbeams the barred window let into the office. The only noise to break the silence was the clock, ticking loudly as if offended about the calm day, and the scratching from writing with his pen. James found himself stopping in mid-blink, falling asleep for a few seconds, then jerking awake. His dull brown desk, dull manila folder, and plain white pages with tons of small print greeted him every time, making him almost wish he could doze off.

He yawned and glanced at the god-awful loud clock. Three in the afternoon and nothing so far. Perhaps today would be entirely clear of escape attempts and he'd actually finish these damned forms before six so he'd be able to go home on time.

Shouts and screams came from C Block, muffled heavily by concrete and the warden's heavy door.

Apparently not.

James put down the forms and tiredly stood up, shaking his head free of mental cobwebs. He managed to seem alert when Cody slammed his office door open. The thin young man was twitching with excitement. "Mister Warden Sir! The prisoners are trying to escape!"

James managed not to roll his eyes. "Then lock down the prison! Get Andy and Rajim to shut all possible exits and get me Dajon, Randall, and Luis. The rest of you will recall all prisoners into their cells."

Cody stared at him, pop-eyed. The warden scowled. "Move it!"

The guard scrambled out of the room, still vibrating at the idea of action.

After four years as the prison warden, James had dealt with dozens of escape attempts. Not one had been successful. Not a single one. Yet every time, Cody flipped and treated it like a totally new, intimidating, exhilarating experience. And he wasn't the only one.

The people he had to deal with.

Shaking his head slightly, James marched out of his office to find the source of the trouble. He had learned that running was off the table for prison wardens, not a consideration. The calmer he appeared to be, the more intimidating he was. He was still embarrassed by his earlier reactions to stress – running, shouting, pulling weapons – but that was when he was inexperienced. Now, he always appeared calm and cool-headed.

He carefully managed his rising blood-pressure. Breath control, that was the key. The warden wanted to keep the prison escape record spotless, and he'd have to stay late **again**, just because some stupid inmate had decided to add another three months to his sentence for trying to escape, and his guards couldn't manage to keep a dog cooped up with his dinner for ten minutes, however, that was no reason to lose his cool. But goddammit, he always had to lead them by the nose-

The warden caught a flash of color and pulled himself to a halt, just missing bumping into his most experienced men.

The sight of Dajon, his temporary mentor, chilled the warden's blood a bit.

James breathed deeply and slowly, counting mentally to get his equilibrium back. It would not do to go rushing in hell-bent and furious; it would ruin the reputation of James Woodridge, Capable Prison Warden, reducing him to Jimmy, Wet-Behind-The-Ears Kid. It seemed like it took forever to relax, yet James knew from experience that it was really just a few seconds.

When he felt calm enough, James flicked the black guard a tiny smile.

Dajon's whole face lit up like a beacon, his expansive grin more than making up for the warden's shadow of a smile. The other guards nodded to James too, their faces just as expressionless as the warden's own mask. They were proud of him for following their suggestions, even prouder when the prisoners started responding to James's authority.

Small expression of gratitude over, the warden got down to business, walking and talking at the same time. "What do we have?" he asked tersely.

Luis answered. "Looks like Carlos, Antony, and Chavez, boss. They blew up their cell, BAM. Some kinda blue bomb. They headin' for the yard ag'in."

James tensed. "The kid?"

"Leading the way," Randall broke in grimly.

James was stunned. That little kid? He was what, two? How could **he** be leading the breakout?

Randall's long face told the warden he wasn't joking. Great.

The warden sighed, rubbing his temples. That was all he needed. If the kid got out-

James stopped that mid-thought. There was no way he would let Blue get taken away, not now. Not after convincing most of Metro City that the kid didn't exist.

The sound of rushing feet and squeaking wheels echoed down the corridor. The warden made his decision and turned around, directing his footsteps to the prison yard. If that was where the prisoners wanted to go, that was fine by him.

"Get around the edge of the yard," he ordered sharply. "I'll take care of Blue."

~~~MM~~~

Blue wanted to go outside. He knew what out looked like; it was blue up, and brown-yellow down, with grey squares on the edges where he could look through. Taste was better there, not so stale, and wind moved on his cheek. The brown-yellow under his feet crunched when he walked.

Inside was neat but boring too. He was always inside. And everything was grey. And all his nuncles wanted out, too. If they wanted out, it must be bad and evil and that meant he should do it.

His nuncles liked the trike, too. They were so proud that Blue had made it. It was neat and all license platey. The binky rode on top near his hand, all sparkly and shiny and blue like him. Blue rode the trike happily, his nuncles and other pris'ners running behind, and Minnon next to him in his little ball. Time for family outside-time!

A wall came up and Blue pressed the binky. BAM. Wall gone. Bounce-bounce-bounce over the rocks.

Blue pedaled his feet more. Another wall, BAM, bump-bump-bump riding over it. Then – outside!

YAY!

Blue grinned as his trike crunched over the rough brown-yellow of outside ground, then saw the Wad'n, glaring down at him. His brown hair was just right and his suit was all perfect, not messy at all. For some reason, that scared Blue. Also, he was scowling and frowning and his lips were in a straight line. He must be really mad.

Blue's face fell and he stopped pedaling. The trike slowly ground to a halt in front of the tall man who told his nuncles what to do. Whatever was gonna happen, it was gonna be good. Not yay.

"You," the Wad'n said firmly, "are coming with me."

* * *

So, we come to one of the huge benchmarks of Megamind's life: his first prison-break! What's the warden going to do with him?

You might have noticed that when I take Blue's point of view, it's really rather skewed, including with spelling. This is because I have seen how young children write, heard them speak, and understand how they reason. It's very interesting. Blue is extraordinary, yet he is still a teeny tiny adorable little boy with adorable pronunciation issues, even more so than normal. His reasoning would likely be similar to a human's of the same age, just more articulate. Also, 'good' is a negative thing and 'bad' is a positive thing with Blue, courtesy of his prison uncles.

Annnnd I just over-analyzed that.

Anyway, on to writing more background story and the next chapter. Will the Warden chuck Blue out of prison? Will his uncles ever see him again? Am I ever going to stop asking annoying questions? Tune in next time for the next episode of Beginnings, same Blue-Time, same Blue-Channel!


	4. There's no place like home

I kinda had fun writing this part, I will not lie. It sucks majorly for the warden, and Blue for that matter, but hey. Tormenting people in stories is fun. You get the pleasure without anyone actually being in pain - well, anyone but your readers... hmm...

* * *

The Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted was special.

At first glance, it seemed like any other prison. The building was short, squat, and a dull grey. A yard off to the side served as the exercise area for prisoners, surrounded by a fence with barbed wire coiled around the top. Even inside, it seemed like nothing new. Prison cells had iron bars and locks, it took visitors forever to get to the Visitation Room, and there were strict rules about everything, from chowing down on lunch to how often prisoners changed their clothes.

Yet, a certain amount of trust – even pride – existed between the warden, his guards, and the prisoners.

Ms. Warbeck had commented that calling the prisoners Criminally Gifted would boost their egos. She was right. It did. However, the Mayor had overlooked the fact that it took a very special criminal to earn that title. And only those that earned it could go to the Prison for the Criminally Gifted.

They were thieves, counterfeiters, and con artists; drug dealers, police and physician impersonators, and organized crime members; high-scale vandals, firearm felons, and car jackers.

However diversified their backgrounds and crimes were, each and every prisoner shared three things in common: they were all incredibly intelligent, good at their nefarious jobs – and nonviolent.

Therefore, although the prison had excellent precautions against prison breaks, a full complement of guards, and allowed very few visitors (too many had tried variations on the old saw-in-a-cake trick), prisoners had quite a few little perks to being Criminally Gifted.

Those perks started disappearing when the prisoners declared all-out war after the warden took Blue away.

Lasagna Night was ruined by all prisoners simultaneously throwing slippery noodles and sauce all over the floor, making it **very** difficult to walk. Comfortable cotton bedsheets were used as crude tripwires whenever the warden turned a corner. All extra pillows had to be taken away after the third time James ducked a fluffy missile. Someone managed to destroy the air conditioning units, leaving everyone sweltering in the summer heat for two days until the **second** repairman managed to get it fixed. The first was apparently a 'friend' of Antony's.

Needless to say, James put his foot down. All pillows, bedclothes, shoes, and electronics were confiscated. The next evening's stirfry meal was changed at the last minute to oatmeal without sweetener. The air conditioning in the cellblocks was turned up to barely tolerable.

The war continued. Someone ripped up Dajon's favorite book and marked on every remaining page "GIVE BLUE BACK YOU ASS!" with a very detailed, exceptionally crude drawing in blue paint. Cody broke his arm after slipping in a pile of oatmeal left conveniently outside the bathroom door while he was using the john. Anything even remotely colored blue had to be taken away so it would not be used as a protest sign. And every time the warden left his office the prisoners yelled in concert "Blue! Blue! Blue! Blue!"

It was very annoying.

As he walked to his car on the fifteenth day since Blue's attempted escape, James Woodridge had serious misgivings. Was one bundle of horror **really** worth all this fuss?!

He opened the car door, then closed his eyes in frustration. A disgusting mixture of toilet water, vomit, and peach syrup dripped from his new car's leather interior. Another 'gift' from the prisoners. He felt a gooey glob ooze onto his shoe.

Great. Just... just great.

James tried to keep calm as he got in, ignoring the wet **squish** as he settled into the seat. He would need calm where he was going.

Unfortunately, James lived very close to the prison. Only three short turns and he was on his own street. As he made the last left, James heard a faint wailing, slowly getting louder as he made his way toward his own house.

_You know,_ he thought irritably, _this **would** be worth it if that kid just appreciated what I'm doing for him._

The headache that haunted him every night started building in anticipation as the warden passed each picture-perfect house on his street. His house was at the end of the cul-de-sac and, unfortunately, the focus of the screaming.

James parked the car and checked that every door was locked. He pulled the parking brake once, then again, yanking it until the poor thing creaked in protest. The mirrors were next, prepped and ready to go for the next time he drove, though somewhat sticky and smudged from peach slime. If James had had a wheel-lock, he would have put it up, but he had always thought those ugly yellow things weren't worth it. The warden sighed. With every conceivable safety precaution he could think of in place, he reluctantly unlocked the car.

The exhausted warden slowly pulled the door open and used it to steady himself as he got out of the vandalized car. The wailing was louder out here. As much as the sedan reeked, it had been better in there.

James opened his mailbox and saw three complaints from his neighbors about the constant noise, one bill, and something about how much the prison needed work from the mayor again. He dragged his way up the immaculate drive, delaying the inevitable as long as possible. The warden smelled the light, sweet scent of his lovely bellflowers and forget-me-nots in the planters and noted how well the gardener had weed-whacked near the cement walkway. He leaned down to measure the height of his lawn with a finger.

The door slammed open. An enraged teenage girl stomped down the steps and shoved something in James' arms. He knew by the god-awful sound the package was making that it was Blue.

Tiredly, James shifted the screaming toddler to one arm and took his wallet out of his back pocket. He took a hundred-dollar bill out and crammed it into the babysitter's hand.

The girl - Stacy? - snorted and stuffed the money in her pocket. "At least ya tip well," she commented in a crude, clipped voice. "Do that thing ever shut up?"

James scowled. "Stacy, he isn't a thing, and no."

She snorted again, and drawled, "Listen, pops, if ya pay that well tomorrow I'll save ya the troubles'a findin' another babysitter. It seems you're going through the entire neighborhood, and then some. By the way, Stacy was two babysitters ago. Name's Nicky, and as long as you pay me good dough, I don' mind watchin' no freakshow."

James felt his arms tighten around the boy protectively. God, he hated the tiny alien sometimes - like now - but nobody could talk about Blue like that.

For the first time, James really tried to focus on the teen. Nicky was fifteen, had long red hair on one side of her head and a buzzcut on the other, and wore damaged jeans and a leather jacket. Judging by how Nicky constantly changed how she talked, her parents were well-off and she just wanted to act hip. Normally, James would not have let her anywhere near a child, but he was running out of babysitting options.

"If you say that again," he warned quietly, "you will never earn another cent from me." He had never turned The Mask on anyone outside of prison before, but this was a good time to start.

James could see her jaw tighten in anger, but her voice became sweet as saccharine. "Oh yes. You let me take care of the darling boy, we'll have such fun together!" She reached out to pinch a toddler cheek, but James tilted Blue out of harm's way.

"You don't have to have fun with him," James snapped, annoyed at her lousy attempt at fooling him. "Give the kid some blocks or crayons and he'll entertain himself. Just change his diapers and keep him away from the blowtorch."

A spark of interest lit Nicky's dull brown eyes. "What, do he like blowtorches or somethin'?"

The warden said nothing, merely tightened the skin around his eyes a little. The girl paled. "Alright, jeez, I'll keep him away from the thing. See ya tomorrah, pops."

She turned around, cocked an insolent eyebrow, and sneered, "By the way, ya really need ta wash. Yous stink."

After she was gone, James breathed a relieved sigh. Now, he just had to go inside, change the boy's diaper, feed and roll the fish, and heat up their pre-made dinners. And eventually shower.

It was as he loaded the oven that he realized something. He could **hear** the clatter as he dropped Blue's aluminum tray onto the rack and shut the door.

Blue** wasn't crying!**

James whipped around to stare at the boy sitting on his counter. The kid was sucking on the glowing binky that the warden had tried unsuccessfully to shove in his mouth again and again, staring at him with those round eyes. As puffy and red as they were, they were also vividly green and almost impossibly large. If he didn't know better, the kid was trying to look cute. Then, to the warden's shock, the boy took his binky out of his mouth and said the first thing James had ever heard him say.

"Goo?"

His voice was so adorable, you could put it in a commercial and sell damn near anything. The boy bit his lip and widened his eyes even more. It was almost- well, yes, like he was asking for something.

Trying not to show his relief, the warden asked casually, "So, what do you want then, kiddo?"

Blue immediately crawled across the counter, pulled open a drawer next to the sink, and took out a piece of paper. Then, he snagged a pencil from beside the phone. He started drawing something. James craned his neck to see, but Blue's big head was in the way.

When the tyke pulled back, the warden's heart sank. He couldn't give Blue what he wanted. The screaming... he could already hear the horrible screaming...

Evenly, James tried to explain. "No, you can't have a-" then dove to cover the kid's mouth. The vicious alien had already started sucking in a lungful of air, and the warden just couldn't take it anymore. "You cannot have a blowtorch, they're dangerous!" he finished sharply.

Acidic green eyes glared back at him furiously. The boy leaned back, pulling away from the warden's hand slowly, his eyes sparking. However, he kept his mouth shut, and that was enough for the warden.

Oddly, the anger in Blue's eyes relaxed a bit after he was away from the warden. He went back to drawing.

Cheered by the boy's compliance, the warden took their dinners out, smiling as the savory smell of corn, potatoes, and chicken filled the room, overpowering his own pungent smell of vomit and peaches.

James finished setting the table. When he turned around, the boy was waiting for him, holding up a new picture. "Goo?"

Maybe the kid would settle for something more appropriate than a blowtorch. The warden knew that he wouldn't get off without precious silence costing him something. He walked over for a closer look at Blue's drawn request.

A detailed prison cell, complete with television and bars, stared back up at him.

James just looked at the boy. Then he turned and got the milk out of the fridge.

"You a good man!"

~~MM~~

The wadn dropped the milk. Sploosh.

"You talk." Wadn was calm. If he was calm, why did he drop the milk? _Cause,_ Blue thought,_ Wadn **not** calm._

Blue grinned proudly. He got Wadn not calm! "I talk since I half year. You a good man!" Frown.

Wadn scowled. "Since you were a half year-" He shook his haired head. "Yes, I am a good man. What does that have to do with anything?"

Confusion. Why did the tall man not understand? Blue was punished every time he was called good. The tall man was way older than Blue, he should know. Maybe Wadn was dumb.

Dumbness was not important. What was important was- "I wanna go prison!"

"Why?"

Blue blinked. Why?! Why was so obvious! "Prison have nuncles," the toddler said slowly, trying to explain and work it out at the same time. "Prison have yummy food and blaa-ow torches. Prison have prison-ers. Prison fun. Prison..." he hesitated. How could he say prison made him feel warm-fuzzy-laughing-comfortable-safe? "Prison bad."

But Wadn just looked weird when Blue said 'bad.' Maybe Wadn didn't know what bad meant. Blue tried again. "Prison... prison.. um.." He bit his teeny lip and thought a bit, then smiled all wide. "Prison nice!" Blue shrieked excitedly.

The haired man winced. "If you go back there, kid, you'll become just like them: a thief, a criminal, a lowlife. You won't have any prospects, no..." Wadn stopped. Stopping was bad, Blue's head hurt so much. What was this 'become' thing? Was it something you did? What was a lowlife and-a thief and-a crimnal? The toddler stared at the Wadn with wide eyes, confused.

Wadn picked Blue up. The tall man's arms were warm and nice all around him, and his eyes were up and real real big. Blue remembered his Wawa and Fafa looking like that when he was leaving his parents, but his Wawa's eyes were big and brown and his Fafa's eyes were green. Wadn's eyes were blue. 'Cept for that, he looked just like them, like he was saying something important.

He looked sad and said things weird, stopping when he said three words or five words, then saying things again, real nicely, but slow and sad. "Those people are mean, kid. If you go back, you'll be mean, too. I want you to be nice. I want you to have friends, go to school, graduate college, have a real life." He swallowed and made a soft gulp sound.

"If you stay in the prison, you will be mean and have no friends and waste your life. If you stay with me, you will have friends and be nice. So. you're staying with me, got it?" And Wadn looked all frowny and scary face.

Blue was unhappy. He wanted to go to prison! Prison was evil, prison had family, prison was nice. If he wanted to be nice, Blue couldn't go back to prison, where it was nice? Confusing!

Then, Blue had an Idea.

Later, the Warden ruefully realized that this was the first of his genius ideas that later led to supervillainy, because it was so incredibly creative and lawyeristic - for a two year old, that is.

Blue told Wadn his Idea proudly. "I stay with Wadn at prison!" he crowed happily. "I see Wadn AND nuncles! I win!" Then he waved his arms around excitedly, gurgling with joy.

The warden looked at the boy in exhaustion. Enough was enough. He had tried to give the kid a future, and he didn't want it. If it made the kid happy and **shut up**, then it was worth it. And at least the kid was alright with being raised by him, instead of by Antony and the gang.

James wrapped his arms around his new so- his new charge, stroking the blue head that seemed like it was getting bigger every day.

And the little alien hugged him back as far around the Warden's neck as he could reach.

* * *

So, I thought this chapter seemed... unfinished. Therefore, instead of adding a new chapter, I finished this one. I'm a lot happier with it now.


	5. Just another day in paradise

**Please go back and read the last chapter before you read this.** I added another part to it to finish it out because honestly, that was a terrible place to stop.

That's part of the reason that I wanted to get this chapter out so soon; none of you can tell that I finished that chapter, since updates to current chapters don't trigger an alarm. It took a lot of effort to get this out so fast, especially since the story just wouldn't reach a stopping point until I'd written over three thousand words. Initially, I had just intended this to be a little about Minion and mostly about Blue reading, but Minion took the whole thing over. Apparently, Megamind isn't the only ham in the family.

Anyway, here it is, just another day in paradise.

* * *

Another day, another three hundred dollars.

Three hundred dollars earned by babysitting 435 prisoners, 36 guards, and one four year old with his pet piranha.

A rising **wheeeeeeEEEE!** echoed down the corridor to the warden's office, where he was filling out paperwork again. The deep rumbling of the fish's full sphere rolling ran a soothing counterpoint to the boy's high-pitched giggles. The sound of playing was doubly relaxing: not only was Blue happy, if the kid was playing, nothing was wrong. He was as good as a guard for spotting trouble, though of course he couldn't stop it any better than his encapsulated fish.

**Clatter-bump, rollrollroll**, right outside his closed door. Playful, high-pitched giggle. And then a fading squeal of laughter as the alien kept running his ball the other way.

James shook his head, smiling. Blue sure was a good kid, though you still had to call him bad or evil to his face. In fact, the warden had never heard of another child who was so angelic, as long as you kept him with 'family.' He never broke any rules at all, toeing the line as much as the warden did - if not more. Oh, sure, he was mischievous sometimes, but even that didn't break any rules.

The warden let a small smile tug at his mouth as the kid whizzed past again. He'd been playing the same game for hours.

In some ways, Blue hadn't changed a bit. He still enjoyed romping with his fish more than anything else in the world, he had only experienced six months worth of body growth instead of two years, and he was still very much a child. At first, the warden had been worried that little Blue would grow into big Blue really quickly, since he was really extremely mature for his age. For some reason, though, he still acted much as he had at two years old. Perhaps his species had mental growth spurts or something.

As much as the warden appreciated Blue having fun, he wasn't getting much work done. He decided to tell Blue to change to a quiet game in about an hour or so. Meanwhile, James could savor the sound of a kid playing.

The door creaked. The warden smiled without looking up. He knew what Blue was up to. The kid would creep in, sneak past the wooden desk, and quietly crawl under the chair. Then, when he was sure the warden hadn't noticed, the little stinker would hop up and yank on the warden's writing arm with all his might, ruining the page he was working on. Of course, after the first time James had paid a little more attention when his door creaked, and the kid did the same thing every time, so only one set of paperwork had actually gotten an ink slash. Blue was so predictable.

However, the warden wasn't about to ruin the kid's fun, especially if it meant that he wouldn't try a new plan to mess with him. It was one thing to have to redo a little work, something completely different if it happened all the time.

The warden got a blank form out and started filling in as many fields as possible with random gibberish so Blue wouldn't figure out he'd been had.

Sure enough, he heard childish giggling at the door. He knew that if he looked up, luminous green eyes would be staring back at him mischievously. The warden kept his eyes firmly on his paperwork, chuckling mentally.

Another quiet creak from the door, then little sneakers shuffling quickly across the floor and glass crunching softly. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw something zip under his chair. Then, he heard more muffled laughter.

The warden froze. Ah ha, he was right!

There it was again: more laughter, with **two** distinct voices. One laugh was sort of a deep-throated "heh heh heh," and that one he recognized as Blue's. Blue always kept his mouth almost shut when he laughed unless he was hamming it up. The other one was completely different, the "ho ho ho ho" of someone who laughed with his mouth wide open.

Apparently Blue heard it too, for he hissed, "Quiet, quiet, he'll hear you!"

"How 'bout now?" a lighter voice asked.

"SHHH!"

James had heard that voice before. It was so easy to pass it off as a guard, a prisoner, Blue pretending, or even his own imagination. But the warden had a sneaky suspicion for some time that the boy's fish could not only move intelligently, it could-

WHAM! The warden yelled and jumped clean out of his chair, grabbing for his desk as something jolted his arm.

After a few seconds of heart-wrenching shock, the warden realized that the kid had whacked him just when he was pondering the possibility of a talking fish. The little blue stinker was rolling around on the floor, laughing his oversized head off, kicking and punching the ground in his mirth.

Incidentally, so was the fish.

Taking two quick strides, the warden snatched Minion and stared him straight in the face. The pirahna-like 'pet' stared back, alarmed.

"You talked!" the warden accused sharply.

"No I didn't!" Minion responded defensively.

A second later, the fish gasped in dismay, his eyes and mouth widening into three perfect comical 'o's as he realized his mistake. He looked even funnier because his tiny fangs poked out on all sides of his round mouth. At the same time, Blue snapped "Min-yon!"

The warden glanced at the boy, who immediately looked intensely guilty. The warden raised an eyebrow, then turned back to the fish.

It was gasping for water, eyes bugging out, and looked like it was in the midst of a panic attack.

"Hey, relax!" the warden soothed, rubbing the ball comfortingly. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid."

"You're not?" Blue asked disbelievingly.

James snorted. "Of course not," he said dismissively. "Why would I? Minion's just as much a person as you or I are."

Blue's mouth sagged open. Apparently, he hadn't thought of that.

Minion was still choking, gills and fins fluttering frantically in fear. James ran his fingers over the glass, searching for the minuscule crack that indicated the opening. He went over it twice; no soap.

The warden started to feel afraid. The fish really looked like he was in trouble, and he couldn't get the damn ball open!

Then Blue was at his elbow, reaching for Minion's sphere. The warden hesitated, then reluctantly let the boy take it.

The kid sat down, tapped the ball with a finger, and listened. He tapped another spot. The warden had no idea what he was listening for, or how on Earth he would hear whatever it was over Minion's gasps.

Then, the boy finally seemed to find what he was looking for and spun the sphere so that spot was on the top. He pressed on it with his flat palm, turning the glass and popping it open. The entire top came off, spilling water all over the floor. Blue reached in and cupped the fish with both hands. "It's alright," he cooed soothingly, "it's okay. I'm here, Minion."

The warden knelt beside the boy in the puddle, longing to comfort the fish too, but there was no room in the ball for his hands. He had guessed that Minion was more than just a pet, that he was a kid just like Blue, and James had wanted to startle the truth out of the fish. Now, it looked like he had endangered the child's life. Great.

Trying not to show his anxiety, the warden watched Blue calm his fishy friend. It took a long, long while. Long enough to for the warden to realize how very cold a concrete floor could be on his knees. Wincing, he repositioned himself closer to the fish to put a comforting hand on the ball, at the same time relieving the cold problem by plunking himself flat on his bottom and crossing his legs.

The fish only panicked more, attempting vainly to escape the warden's hand on his ball by swimming to the bottom. Blue's arms stretched deeper into the bowl, straining them painfully as his little elbows tried to bend backwards against the stiff edge of the glass.

So that was it.

The warden stood up abruptly and walked out of his office. If the fish was afraid of him, it was better if he was not around for a while.

James tried to deflect his thoughts away from the sadness that was creeping in. It made sense that Minion was afraid of him; that explained why he was unwilling to talk. In fact, considering that he never talked around anyone except Blue when they were alone, Minion likely feared all humans. Very sensible, really, since all humans treated him as a pet, an animal without any intelligence whatsoever. Heck, most people didn't even talk to him at all. Now, if he had been a dog-like person, he would at least have gotten baby-talk. As it was, fish were the among the stupidest of all pets, so Minion had been almost completely ignored for four years.

Yes, it all made perfect sense. But reason didn't help the warden's feeling of loss at all.

His ki- the child he had taken care of for two years- feared him.

The warden strode blindly down the grey corridors, not noticing when prisoners called for his attention. Guards had to jump out of the way so he wouldn't run them down. Everywhere he walked, the clamoring built up ahead of him, then fell to silence as he passed. The warden's face was so wooden that it made all who saw him feel solemn.

The warden found himself in front of Blue and Minion's cell.

Without the children, it was empty and gloomy. Colored pencils lay abandoned, box open and pencils scattered, next to an unfinished, very detailed drawing of Minion. An adult-sized bed lay in the corner, hard but carefully made by the warden himself that morning. Underneath, there was one small chest of toys, unopened. A toilet sat in the back, too big for Blue to use easily and completely useless for Minion. No clothes, no desk, no cute blanket. You could hardly tell that one child lived here, much less two.

The warden smiled. There was something he could do to make Minion feel more at home here. Maybe that would help him get over his fear.

~~MM~~

Minion's fins went up-down-up-down-up-down between his Sir's fingers. _Wanna leave, can't leave, gotta_ _leave,_ run through his head. He can't breathe. Warden gonna get rid of him, and leave Sir all alone. All alone, no Minion, and he be eaten, they **ate** fish here.

He feel a funny thump-thump-thump above his floater-bag. Oh no, oh no, something wrong there too, oh no!

Sir's fingers squeeze him tight. Ow, too tight, too tight, but don't let go!

Sir say, "It's okay, Minion. I'm here. You are gonna stay too."

Minion shake. "Sure?" he ask, scared.

Sir smile. "Sure," he say strongly. "You and me, Minion. Forever and ever and ever."

Minion still feel scared, but better. He fall close to Sir for a hug. Sir stop squeeze so tight, now nice soft squeeze. Now Sir let go and take hands out of ball, but still next to Minion.

Minion feel tired. "Save me from Wahden?" he ask.

"Yes. Wa-Wa is not gonna get you, you silly fish you," Sir scold. "He's a bad Warden."

Minion say, mad, "Nuh-uh! Good Wahden! You save me, he gonna eat me!"

"He's not gonna eat you! Wa-Wa doesn't eat fish, he thinks you are like him and me, not food. He said so. And I never seen him eat fish," Sir shake his head. "But if he tries, I'll stop him, okay? You sleep. I'll stay here, you're safe."

Minion feel his eyes close. Sir here, Minion safe. "Promise?" he ask sleepily.

"Promise."

Minion yawn, show all his sharp teeth, then sleep.

~~MM~~

Blue stared at his fish. Poor Minion, thinking that Wa-Wa was gonna eat him. Silly fish!

Blue resealed the ball, then looked around. Grey floor, brown wooden desk, grey sorting box, black spinning chair, papers on the desk. That was it. Booo-ring!

Blue got up. He was really, really wet. His blue suit was soaked. And he was cold. And bored. He picked up Minion and walked out, like Warden. Minion made a sound, but he stayed asleep.

Maybe Blue could find Warden and Wa-Wa would play with him.

~~MM~~

The warden smiled, satisfied. There, all done. He couldn't wait to see the look on Minion's face when he saw his new home.

Hearing tiny footsteps, the warden quickly left the cell. Blue approached, holding Minion in his arms. To the warden's disappointment, the fish was asleep.

Blue brightened when he saw the warden and quickened his step. When he got close enough, Blue asked, "Can we play now?"

James smiled. "First, let's put Minion in your bedroom to sleep," he suggested. "Then I'll read you a story." The paperwork could wait for a while. He took Minion and found the seal; it was so much easier when he wasn't in a hurry.

Blue pouted. "I don't like reading."

The warden wasn't listening, he was too anxious to get Minion into the new aquarium. It was a bit small for the large fish, just a normal-sized tank, but it had been the best he could do at short notice. It certainly was a lot larger than the sphere, and he'd put real plants and dirt in there. It even had a large empty castle so Minion could get some privacy.

The fish turned over in his new tank and started snoring.

That done, James turned and took the boy's hand and led him back to the office so as not to disturb the fish.

The prisoners and guards all left them alone. They knew better than to bother the warden when he was spending time with Blue. For one thing, the warden was always more sensitive when he was with his son, as if he would be thought of as soft or something. For another, Blue was sorta everyone's kid, and no one, not even the most hardened of the criminals at the prison, wanted to make things tougher than they had to be for the little guy. He'd already had to go to another planet, he didn't need a rough time.

Blue was scowling the whole way. He was glad that Minion got a new water container, but why did he have to be punished for it?

The warden called in two guards to clean up the water mess and get the two of them some dry clothes. After they changed - the warden into a new brown suit and Blue into prison orange, since he hated being treated like anything more than a normal prisoner - James retrieved his stack of children's books from the desk.

It was then that Blue began to cry.

~~MM~~

Half an hour, two lollipops, and the glowing binky later, Blue had huffed himself into silence. He resentfully nestled into the warden's lap, leaning against his arm for the story.

Patting the kid's head, the warden was wondering what the hell went wrong. Was Blue jealous of the tank? Why would he be? It was a **fishtank**, for crying out loud! Why did these aliens have to be so much goddamn trouble?!

Blue was drooping with exhaustion. Maybe he needed to go back to his room without a story.

The warden smiled. Well, maybe he could read _The Chronicles of Narnia_ to Blue for himself. The kid might not need it, but he sure as hell did. Today had exhausted him. Worst case, Blue would fall asleep in his lap.

Cracking open the second book in the series, the warden started to read the fourth chapter. By the end of the second page, he really got into it, even pitching his voice to a big, strong one for Miraz and a little, enthusiastic voice for Caspian.

'Eh? What's that?' he said. 'What old days do you mean?'" the warden humphed in his strong Miraz voice.

The warden switched to his little voice. "'Oh, don't you know, Uncle?' said Caspian. 'When everything was quite different. When all the animals could talk, and there were nice people who lived in the streams and the trees. Naiads and Dryads they were called. And there were Dwarfs. And there were lovely little Fauns in all the woods. They had feet like goats. And-'"

Gruffly, the warden continued, "'That's all nonsense, for babies,' said the King sternly."

"You got that right," Blue commented in a low mutter, obviously not intending to be overheard.

The warden looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked. "_The Chronicles of Narnia-_"

"-Is for little babies!" Blue burst out, waving his arms emphatically. "None of that stuff really happens! Fauns, Dryads, Naiads, Kaiads, none of it's **real**, Wa-Wa!" He looked at the warden earnestly. "I hate reading, cause none of it's real!" He crossed his arms defensively, sure that the warden was going to argue back at him.

James was surprised. He'd thought all kids loved fairy tales about trolls and adventures and other stuff like that. But, if Blue wanted real stuff, he could see about finding it. It wasn't the first time he'd been surprised by the kid; after all, who else had a glowing binky?

The warden slid Blue off his lap, put the children's books back, and opened a different drawer in his desk. This was where he kept the books that he wanted to read for himself. He only read during lunch and breaks, of course, and that made it slow going. The drawer only contained three books: _American Psycho_, _The War of the Worlds,_ and _Red Giants and White Dwarfs._

Hesitantly, the warden handed the last book over to Blue. It was really advanced reading, but it was a very scientific book and only contained real theories. Also, the warden knew that Blue was ridiculously advanced in reading, just like he was ridiculously advanced in almost everything. He could have read _Prince Caspian_ all by himself if he wanted to without breaking a sweat.

Doubtfully, Blue took the book and cracked it open. At first, he read with a scowl. After a few seconds, however, his entire face lit up, then dropped into confusion. Looking up at the warden curiously, Blue asked, "What does 'nuh-clear' mean?"

James bit his lip to keep from laughing at his pronunciation. "Nuclear means something that has to do with atomic energy," he explained.

"What's atomic?"

"Atomic means something uses atoms or talking about atoms."

"Oh." The kid dropped his head down to read a little more. "What about the-ore-tical?"

The warden smiled. "Let's get you a dictionary," he said.

~~MM~~

James discovered that he liked Blue reading against the wall of his office just as much as he liked the kid playing. It was relaxing, finishing up the paperwork (he had already thrown away the fake that he had filled out for Blue's prank) while the clever alien read, with no sound other than a clock ticking on his desk. At first, Blue kept referring again and again to the dictionary; over time, he stopped switching between the two and just read the main book nonstop.

It was many hours later that Blue finally put down the book and looked up with a hungry expression. "More," he requested intensely.

James was delighted to oblige. The library was still open and, though he usually stayed to tuck Blue in, he thought the kid would like a bunch of books better. He rubbed the giant blue head affectionately and led Blue back to his cell, determined to get a stack on history, science, math, and economics. If Blue wanted to read about the real world, then he could provide the means.

Blue watched Warden go a little sadly. He wanted the books, but he also wanted Wa-Wa to say goodnight.

Sighing, Blue started a new drawing, this time about the black hole that had destroyed his home. He knew a lot more about it now and could fill in more details.

A sound caught his attention, some sort of bubbling. Surprised, Blue looked in the corner and saw a new box filled with water. Blue remembered it from before. Warden had put Minion in it.

Minion wasn't there.

Gasping, Blue leapt up for another look. There were a bunch of green things waving in the water, and brown stuff on the bottom, and a tube that bubbled, and a castle he recognized from some of the horrible fairy tales, but no Minion.

"Minion?" Blue called fearfully, tapping the glass.

No answer.

"Minion?"

Nothing.

"MINION!" he shrieked, scared. What if Minion got out and got lost and had no idea how to get back in and died because he had no water and they wouldn't even be able to find his body and it was all Blue's fault for not taking better care of him and reading instead and oh no what was he gonna do-

"Sir?" Minion's voice echoed from the castle. The sleepy fish came out, eyes half closed.

Blue blew out his breath in a whoosh, panting from shock. "Don't **do** that!" he cried.

"Do what?" Minion asked, cranky from being woken up.

Blue shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he mumbled, feeling suddenly very tired. "I'm gonna go to bed."

Minion nodded and floated back into his castle. "I like my box," he murmured happily to himself. Louder, he said, "Goodnight, Sir."

* * *

So, obviously, the _Prince Caspian _excerpt was from _Prince Caspian_ in the beginning of the fourth chapter.

I tried very hard to keep everyone in character. I realize that Megamind is a bit advanced for a four year old speech-wise; that's because I have him be advanced in language from birth in the first chapter. Hopefully no one was too OOC. Actually, the one I'm worried about the most is the warden... oh wells. Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Master Wayne Snott

It was Master Wayne Scott's first day of school.

It felt like every other day. The sun, still sleepy, shed its few rays clearly through his wide, multi-paned window. His comfortable white-and-gold bedspread, looking rather greyer than usual due to the early hour, pulled at him to stay in bed, just for a few more minutes. The slightly septic smell of an impeccably clean home was relaxing, confirming that everything was normal and orderly and safe.

Wayne reluctantly wriggled to the side of his bed and rose, the sheets and heavy comforter sliding off onto the floor. It was earlier than he was used to getting up. Usually, he slept in until about ten, then had a nice breakfast in bed. Today, there was not enough time for that - it was almost six-thirty and he needed to be at school by seven forty.

After he had his usual strengthening vitamins, he put on his regular white shirt, khakis, and a purple sweater tied around his neck. For some reason, this private school did not have uniforms. Strange.

At breakfast, Master Wayne began to relax. True, it was no breakfast in bed, but at least it was served by the butler himself, instead of one of the two young footmen. He always managed to get Cooper to tell him something about what he was writing, even though he wasn't really supposed to talk to the help. In his spare time, Cooper authored mild adventure stories, which grabbed at Wayne's imagination. This book was featuring Wayne himself executing covert operations using his ability to fly.

Unfortunately, just when Cooper was in the middle of telling how The Wayne Brain flew into the crook's second floor window, Lady Scott walked in. To deflect her suspicion, Cooper smoothly offered Master Wayne another lemonade, which he declined politely.

The neat deception was unnecessary. Lady Scott was so distracted that she did not notice their excitement.

"You must leave now, Wayne, school starts at seven forty," she said in her usual melodious way. Whereupon she walked over, slid her hand into Wayne much-smaller one, and pulled him away from his breakfast!

True, he could have prevented it - even as a baby, he had been able to pick her up with ease. In those days, he would have ignored her and done what he wanted. However, when he was a mere three years old, Wayne had accidentally injured his mother's arm by disobeying her. It had been in a cast for months. He still had nightmares about seeing his mother's bloody arm bone sticking out of her wrist. Now, he let her pull him anywhere without resistance.

Looking back at his unfinished Belgian waffles and kipper, Wayne reluctantly allowed his mother to drag him to the limousine.

Wayne was confused. It was not that it was unusual for his mother to tell him what to do; on the contrary, she always did. What confused Wayne was that His Mother had, for some reason, decided to take him to the limousine **herself**. She never did that. It was always, "Wayne, don't forget your lunch, you have a playdate with the Borderlais at 2" or "Wayne, do be a dear to Ms. Ketterly, she is not feeling well. Take yourself outside and play a bit of croquet with the children. Mind that you do not bother her. Have fun, darling!" And no matter what she said, she would wave her hand, smile, then continue picking out the new dining room set.

It confused him even more when his mother gave him a peck on the cheek at the car. And was that worry in her eyes?

She opened her mouth. _Ah_, here it comes, he thought.

And then it didn't. She opened and closed her mouth a few times like she was going to say her usual comments, then sniffed and turned away.

He stared at Lady Scott's back as she hurried away, wondering what was wrong with his mother. He almost went after her, but the chauffeur, Hughes, smiled his indulgent smile and swept his arm toward the car. Wayne knew the rules. He could almost hear his mother's instructive voice. "It is important that when you go down to the car, you be ready to leave. If you go back inside, it shows that you are a young foolhardy that is not... aware."

He entered the white limousine, not without gazing hesitantly back at his mother's retreating form.

It was a dull ride to the school, and surprisingly long. It appeared that the school was actually in **downtown**! Wayne was not so sure about this. Bad people lived around here, even the prison was near there. And, he was getting bored.

For a while, he played with the windows, but even that highly entertaining pastime began to pall after five minutes. He could not look outside, it was far too grungy and common in the deep city. When the limo finally rolled to a stop, Wayne sighed in relief. At least he would be able to move in a minute.

While the young master waited for Hughes to open his door, he gazed out the window in interest at his new school.

When he saw the poky little red building, Wayne was disgusted. The place was about as big as his dog kennel - well, if he had had a dog. It looked like a kennel, too, what with the red and the white trim. The only thing that made him think otherwise was a small inscription over the door - "Li'l Gifted School for Li'l Gifted Kids." Even that was highly insulting. He was hardly 'li'l,' and that was incorrect spelling, anyway. His tutor would be horrified!

When Hughes opened the door, Wayne was sorely tempted to order him to drive him back home. Two thoughts stopped him - his certainty that Hughes would argue with him in front of his new school, and what his mother would say when he came home far too early.

He slid out of the car.

It was just as small inside as it had appeared outside. The colors were gaudy, disgraceful. A mat with enormous, garish letters and numbers coated the floor. One wall was coated with windows, letting a decent amount of light in. Shelves as high as his chin supported books, although not nearly enough to call a decent library. Why, his father had thousands of books on a dozen bookcases twice as tall as these.

A group of children sat in yellow chairs, lower classed by their looks. At least, they were not on the same level as **he** was. That, of course, meant that they were not a Scott; but they were not a Borderlais or a Ketterly either.

They were all sitting in a group, facing a desk, a green wall with white marks on it, and an adult he presumed was the teacher. She looked to be the same class as the students. She had short hair, a red sweater, and a skirt with shiny black heels. She wore that look that the commoners had when they thought they knew more than everyone else. His father dealt with her kind all the time at business meetings. She should be easy enough to deal with.

The question was, why did he have to deal with her and the children at all? Why did his parents want him to go to a **commoner's** school?

"Good! That's everybody. Wayne, would you sit down please, and let's get started." Without waiting for a response, the teacher turned to the other children, expecting him to do what he was told.

Wayne bristled. The only people that called him Wayne were his parents and other children; to adults, he was Master Wayne, and this foolish teacher should know that. After all, wasn't his name on her roll?

And for another thing, did she just **order him around**?! Did she not understand who he was?

Master Wayne stood there, glaring at this inept teacher.

She continued talking, completely ignoring him. "For those of you who don't know, I'm Ms. Resser. Now, the first thing we need to do, class, is get to know each other. I put together a little game I think everyone will enjoy. Here, Ozzie, would you help me pass out the game board?"

A faintly brown-tinted boy in khaki shorts and green shirt stood up and started handing them out. About half the other children were looking at Wayne, the other half at the teacher. Their stares were making him feel uneasy. He was always the head of his normal group, so he didn't mind being looked at, but these children were really making him feel... nervous. Maybe he should sit down and discuss the teacher's oversight with his father when he got home.

He sat.

The other children watched him for another moment, then turned back to the teacher. Apparently, he was only interesting if he was a distraction. The boy - Oz? - gave him his copy of the paper.

Wayne looked at it. For some reason, the thing had 8 very inaccurate pictures of eyes, children, adults, buildings, and animals. "Now, class, the game is to try to find somebody who fits the pictures. If you have blue eyes on your paper, find someone who has blue eyes and write down their name. I don't want anybody to have the same name down twice. Just find a match, write down their name, and find someone else. Okay, let's get going!" The teacher smiled.

Everyone else stood up, so Wayne got up too. He had not understood the sketchy instructions, but lots of the others seemed to know. Maybe if he did what they did, the rules of the game would become obvious. Whatever the case, he must look like he knew what he was doing - appearance was half the battle, as his father said. More importantly, he didn't want the other children to stare at him again. A girl with eyes that were wide apart came over.

"Hi."

"Hi," the boy answered hesitantly.

"You have blue eyes," she said. Something was wrong with her voice. It was... slow. "What's your name?"

"I'm Wayne Scott," he bragged.

"Okay, I'm Melody." She didn't seem impressed at all, just wrote his name on her paper - wrong, he noticed, annoyed. "I have a dog."

_You look like a dog_, he thought, but he didn't say it. Wayne looked down at his paper. There was a brown dog with huge eyes and floppy ears. He looked back up at her. The girl was just standing there, stupidly, waiting for him to do something. Wayne looked back at the dog and made a guess, writing "Melody" underneath it. The weird-looking girl went away.

Everyone treated him like he was like them - common and uncultured. For the whole game, no one was impressed by his name, though he gave his last name each time. They just wrote his name as "WAN," "Wane," or "Wain" and moved on to someone else.

Through snack - which was so light that he could hardly deem it to be worthy of the term 'snack' - calendar, storytime, recess, and letters and numbers, it was the same. The other children had no concept that someone **better** was there. What was going on?

This entire day was turning into a nightmare far out of his comfort zone. Where was the deference to his station? Where were the plentiful snacks and drinks with ice? Why did he have to do this work? It was so easy. Wasn't this place for gifted children?

When would he be treated like a Scott?


End file.
